These are the ramblings of a 50 year old Glaswegian woman, who used to be menopausal but isn’t anymore. Some higher power finally gave me a break and returned me to being a normal human being for which I will be eternally grateful.

Wednesday, 10 February 2010

Depression is for the Middle classes.....

.....the rest of us have to get up for work in the morning. That’s a quote from a Mike Leigh film that resonates strongly with me - a wee working-class lassie from Glasgow; a straight talking Scottish lass that was raised with a strong work ethic and the ability to get on with things no matter what life threw at me. I thought I knew a bit about depression; my uncle descended into a no-man’s land of desperation before being hospitalised and eventually managing his quest to take his own life; my old friend Ella battled long term first and then secondary cancer whilst seesawing between hope and very dark moments; I tail spun rapidly into a reactionary depression when my parents and three others of my family died over a period of a few weeks some fifteen years ago. I paid special attention to the modules on depression when I was doing my Psychology degree, bringing with me my firsthand experiences which afforded a deeper understanding of the academic knowledge I was attaining. So I was bound to recognise it wasn’t I? Ah, you’d think so wouldn’t you; apparently not.

Five years ago I was preparing to complete my year end exams, get married three days later and move house a few weeks later before preparing for Christmas shortly after that. It was a time of stress, conflicting emotions of excitement and sheer terror that we could fit it all in without something giving. But we managed it with minimal collateral damage. I remember feeling overwhelmed and exhausted at the lack of sleep that is synonomous with a racing mind trying to manage a schedule of a thousand pieces of detail that remained up in the air. About the same time I started to notice some distressing physical changes that worsened as time went on. Severe blood loss for three weeks of every month and cramping that felt like I had a knife lacerating my womb, coupled with sharp lightning bolts of pain across my breasts whilst my skeleton groaned in agony every time I moved; all disabling me into a foetal position of agony for much of the time.

My mood swings became almost legendary in their extremes. If I wasn’t sobbing at an RSPCA appeal on telly, I was raging at the world and giving Himself hell. Our relationship gradually descended into one of backbiting, sniping, pleading and threats. In time, my capacity for attention to detail failed and with only two modules of my degree to finish I capitulated and threw in the towel. For someone who was attaining distinctions on my written course work, I had deteriorated to the point where I read and reread paragraphs over and over before crying in frustration at my inability to absorb the simplest of detail. With even less to occupy my mind I became much too obsessed with the minutiae of life; much too self absorbed in my pity for my situation. I became the menopause, it defined me and in my frustration at living this hell, I bored for England about it.

When Himself and I met ten years ago, we delighted in the shared humour, deep love and respect we had for each other. We had both been in two consecutive long term relationships apiece that ended when our respective partners cheated on us. It was easy to bond in our shared grief and anger of the agony of betrayal within a committed relationship but finding each other cemented our resolve to enjoy our lives to the full. We indulged our love of wine, (me), Guinness,(him), good food and our local Inn. We had five tremendous years of harmony and couldn’t believe our good fortune at getting together at such a stage in our lives. When Himself took early retirement on a good pension our socialising took on another level; free from the shackles of the daily grind we went to bed later than ever, spent much more time in the pub than was good for us, we were in a hedonistic fug.

But the life of a permanent holiday without goals and boundaries began to pale for me, long before Himself was prepared to relinquish his participation in it. The more we drank, the more my darkness deepened. It was a vicious cycle of needing the socialising to lighten my mood and give me a goal for the evening whilst exacerbating my low mood each day. The more we led this lifestyle, the more I was incapable of finding the energy to haul myself out of the mire I found myself in. I knew I was in trouble when I would wake in the small hours with thoughts of suicide on my mind. My recurring dream of opening the hatch to the attic, throwing a rope around a beam and hanging myself would wake me in a jolt of terror. I cannot imagine a more heinous thing to do but I was consumed by my subconscious battering away at me – telling me to find a solution. My life had shrunk to eight walls - my home and the pub. I had begun to find the simplest of tasks such as brushing my teeth or showering an enormous task. I’d sleep in and shuffle around in the same clothes for days at a time not bothering to brush my hair which now resembled a burst couch. I had all the allure of a bag lady, whilst lurching from one HRT to another, each producing limited results. I gave up caffeine, tried every available alternative medicine, drank Soya milk and ate avocados by the bucket load and all to no avail. I had read that the menopause could last for up to twenty years and I was in despair that that was to be my future.

In desperation I gave Himself an ultimatum; he could spend as much time at the pub as he liked, as long as he didn’t put me under pressure to accompany him otherwise I saw no option but to leave him. It caused many an argument between us and I feared for the permanency of our relationship but I feared for my life more. Slowly but surely I divested myself of the negative influences that sought to bring me down. As I regrouped I felt much more in control of my life. Progress was slow but it was there nonetheless. It was my good fortune to encounter a new doctor at our surgery, one who took time to listen to me and treat me with a new approach. Quite simply he coached me through coming off the HRT to see how I would cope and promising new hope to find alternative protocols if this failed. In conjunction, I finally relinquished my devotion to the Atkins induction phase of that vile diet and started a healthier GI diet to include vegetables, fruits and nuts. I had become morbidly obese and giving up smoking had added to my girth, hence my need to control the ingesting of any kind of carbs. I was also physically deficient in many of the vitamins, minerals and nutrients that I needed to create the hormones that my body needed to cope with such demanding changes. There is much research being done now on the effects of poor diet, the lack of hormones and the resultant criminal behaviour. I’d happily provide them with my anecdotal evidence of proof. Oh, and as I was to discover much too late ladies, should you be a devotee of the contraceptive pill, your chances of having a symptom free menopause are high. Shite, if only I had known that, I’d have downed a pack a day.

I’d had so many false starts where I thought I was on the road to recovery only to have them dashed some weeks later so I have been reluctant to write about it all. In the one week a month where I was virtually normal, I would manage to write a post for my blog. I am forever grateful for the comments and the feedback you have all given me. They provided me with laughter and a small thread of hope that I wasn’t completely useless.

Now? I am virtually post menopausal as the physical symptoms have mostly gone and the mood swings have gone to the point I am at peace and almost Zen like. I feel amazingly happy and positive. We had the happiest and best festive season we have had in a long time. Old friends that I had dropped have come back into my life and understood that my reluctance to see them was through sheer exhaustion and a need to protect them from my caustic tongue. I have apologised to the people that matter to me and feel humbled by their generous spirit and forgiving nature. But then, they knew me before I degenerated into the monstrous creature I had become. I am blessed with the close friendship of three good women and our time together is one of laughter rather than gossiping and moaning. I have convinced them that as we all keep bemoaning our respective weight gain that we should be emboldened and join our local Rosemary Conley diet and exercise club. “It’s our year”, I keep chanting just to keep the motivation high. We’ll see how effective I am as a cheerleader when we go for our first appointment next week; but for now the enthusiasm is high and I find myself almost having to book time for myself in our gym as I share it with my fellow lardybutts.

In addition, I have discovered Linkedin, a database of professionals that has a great deal of my old colleagues and friends from my time at Unisys registered on it. So many of them now live around us and we have been having a blast catching up, with more meetings in the offing. It’s like coming home, mixing with my fellow nerd-heads for whom laughter is the name of the game.

I gave Himself the worst of times but he saw it through because he knew the real me and kept the faith that I would return. I’d rail in desperation at him for his stubborn refusal to accept a change in our lifestyle but eventually he acquiesced and that intractability became my strength as he refused to let me go when my bags were packed and I foolishly believed that a life on my own was the answer. We drink moderately now but rarely during the week and as such enjoy the experience much more; my energy levels have risen

So what about Mike Leigh’s statement? Perhaps if I had been working I would have had less time to indulge myself in self pity but depression is a serious illness and mine was compounded by but more likely caused by the onset of the menopause, too much vino, a very poor diet, being overweight, unfit and a lack of any exercise – oh and not being on the contraceptive pill. By all accounts I fit the demographic of a middle class life. But then I hate the outmoded bigoted snobbery and segregation that the class structure condones; that is a topic for another post. But if I am to place us within a demographic, we are comfortable, don’t have to work and enjoyed a hedonistic lifestyle. There was no outward reason for me to be depressed but then, it is indiscriminate of class, culture, gender, age, position and wealth. Just look at the documented accounts of the very successful and popular author Marianne Keys, currently laid low by a crippling black depression to the point where she cannot write her monthly blog post or how Annie Lennox has been dogged by severe depression for most of her adult life.

I didn’t realise the depth of my depression until 18 months ago, and by then I was in the grip of it. The reactive depression I experienced when my family died was loaded with grief and as such was a natural companion to the grief with the deaths being an obvious cause; this new depression was entirely different and much more destructive, and as it was a slow burn with no discernable cause, I failed to see the enemy within. Hindsight is an exact science, and as I look back and see the road I travelled I can see the wrong turns I took. Was I being very middle class and self indulgent? Perhaps up to a point as work can be a salve for all sorts of problems but sometimes it just delays the inevitable but let’s not lose sight of the fact it is a chemical deficiency. There are many levels of depression from blue to grey to black. You know you've hit the black when you are consumed with fear, anxiety, self loathing and the terror that you might end it all and you see no way out. I’ve always held onto the belief that suicide is a long term solution to a short term problem and that kept me on the right track – some people get so much deeper into depression that any kind of rational thought is beyond them, I consider myself lucky I never reached that point but I knew I was teetering on a precipice. I am eternally grateful for the love and support that my closest friends, family and Himself gave me. I wouldn’t be here today without it.

MOB. What amazing, truthful post. You had me gripped and with some words and sentences, you struck me like a ton of bricks. It rang most true for me at times. I am so glad you have achieved a happy medium and are finally getting your groove back. What a nightmare you were in, I am so sorry. Can I just say, the times you did post, had me in stitches. You are a very funny lady and I was so glad to see you post again. I am so glad that you remembered that your friends knew you before menopause did this to you, and that himself eventually got round to your way of thinking. You have a fantastic attitde and you absolutely did the best thing for yourself! Hope to hear from you a bit more often and WELL DONE!!! I think you are the bees knees and the cats pajamas! ((hugs))

MOB xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxJust hugs and love and tears What an amazing post, my god you are one amazing writerI am so glad you are through that tunnelSo can we expect more posts Why rename,just call it MOB Merry old Blog lol

I agree with the previous comments, too. It's so great to hear from you, I guess I'm glad I didn't know how tough it was for you, because then I would have worried about you. But as it is, every time I see that you have a new post, I am so happy to hear the honest and engrossing words you have for me. Because those words do indeed hit home for me, too....

Hi MobI dropped by last night but couldn't comment as there was so much to think about. I am really happy that you're back and with avengance! I do hope you don't mind but I have linked this post because it is so brilliant!

VM – aw Hen, you are always too generous with your feedback. I am a very average writer but hopefully improving as time goes on. I like the name suggestion! Maybe I’ll call it Post menopausaloldbag! Great to hear from you.

SITH – it was particularly difficult to write hence the time between this and my last post. I was determined to get it out there but kept faltering. Thanks for such nice feedback.

Expat Mum – thanks. You may never experience any kind of symptoms – many women don’t. I have a few friends that went through the same experience as me so I didn’t feel alone. I hope you are one of the lucky ones!

Djan – I think so many of us go through hard times and don’t always know how to cope with it. I had too much stuff going on and I simply blamed the menopause for it. It was a combination of things that produced multiple symptoms. But the depression was so severe that I felt like a tractor stuck in a quagmire with no hope of getting out. I never want to be there again. The sense of hopelessness and despair, the anger and hostility, the nothingness with no sense of purpose was just so awful. I never knew what personality I was going to be when I woke each day. Still, I have managed to get four of them down to 1.5 now so here’s hoping!

Auntie – oh the honesty part was what scared me. It is very hard to write about this stuff but it’s out there now. I take each day as it comes now and good they are too. Long may they continue!

Martin H – exercise and fresh air – all good things to keep the black dog at bay!

Tattie W – thanks for the link, much appreciated. I doubt I can write anywhere as eloquently as you do on the subject of depression but thanks for such a nice comment. I don’t know how you live with it full time off and on – the first signs I spot of it again and I’ll be doubling up my efforts to chase it off assuming that I can.

Like Tattie Weasle, I too read this last night but had to ingest before I could comment. A great post MOB and I'm so pleased you're feeling better. Hurrah for your doctor, Himself and most of all for you.

A beautifully written and moving post, MOB, and one that I can really empathise with. I've had bouts of depression ever since my teens, some worse than others, as well as the old menopause complications, and it's hell. I am so very glad you're feeling better now, I really am. You take care now. xx

I had been missing you and wondering. I am so glad to hear your story. It is hard to bare our selves without all the layers we tend to hide behind, isn't it? I had a breakdown in my 20's and was on medication for a brief time, then decided I didn't need it. I was wrong. I would congratulate myself on toughing it out without drugs, and as I look back I do not know why I was so adamant about not taking them.

Finally as I began my journey through menopause I succumbed and agreed to take them (much to the relief of my family) and I still take them. Recently my daughter fell into the depths and I spent a harrowing hour and a half on the phone with her while my son-in-law made his way home through a snowstorm. Living 9 hours away, that was the best I could do. But I was able to convince my baby that there is no shame in getting help.

Lane – it was a rather long winded account that could have been edited heavily but I had such trouble writing it that I just grabbed the bull by the horns and published. Thanks and glad to see you back too.

Madmother – thanks for the great feedback. There’s cranky and being a bitch – I was the latter! I’ll pop over and have read of your blog soon.

Flowerpot – I sympathise with anyone who has dealt with depression for so long. I was 36 when I had my reactive depression but that was expected in the circumstances. This second one took the legs from me but so gradually that I never saw it coming. I truly believe that it was my severe diet and the menopause that were the triggers here. Armed with the symptoms now I shall look out for future signs but I intend to keep fit and eat well to keep such occurrences at bay.

Mo – I had a serious sense of humour bypass op! Thanks for being so kind. My humour has returned in spades. It is so much easier to laugh at things and see the funny side instead of feeling slighted and getting angry instead.

Kathy – hello yerself. Been meaning to pop in for a wee read and I will do soon. It must have been so difficult to suffer such a debilitating illness so young. I know what you mean about taking medication – I am very poor at that. I wouldn’t even use the contraceptive pill. I am sure that had I realised much earlier on that I was depressed I would have asked for something. It certainly wouldn’t have lasted for five years.

I was so convinced that it was just the menopause that was making me so bloody odd and didn’t connect it with depression until 3.5 years down the line when I ground to a halt and had those awful dreams and thoughts. I eventually changed my lifestyle, canned the drinking for a long time, stopped going to the pub, refused invitations to drinks and dinner parties as I was determined to kick the depression into touch. Coming off the HRT and changing my diet to include superfoods, and stopping the self medicating with a depressant like wine finally did it for me. I was massively hormone deficient and that is what caused the depression along with other factors. I wish I knew then what I know now but I had to reach rock bottom before I could climb back up. I felt out of control and removed myself from insulting anyone else because I became massively intolerant of their foibles. I can guarantee that if I see things deteriorate again, I’ll be round the Doc’s for a barrel load of tablets! I never want to go through anything like that again.

I would imagine that 90 minutes you spent with your daughter was worth its weight in gold. You just need to be at the end of the phone sometimes to be as effective as being there, especially as she had her husband coming home to her. You are a diamond.

I came here a few days ago and was once again, blown away by your amazing, powerful writing. I had to think about it for a few days before coming back. I so appreciate your honestly, so much I can relate to, on so many levels. Depression has had a very long run in my family, spread throughout the branches of the family tree. I thought it would skip me, my life seemed to be going so well, but once it got it grip on me, it was one of the worse things I have ever experienced. The mood swings were the worse. I don't know how or why my husband stayed with me for 22 years and counting. What pains me the most now is to see my girls going through it. I do have hope, see it as an illness and treat it as such. I also treat it as naturally as I can too, but sometimes I just have to go the medical route. I thank God that there is medical treatment, much like there is for diabetes or a broken leg. One thing I hate is the stigma that is still attached to it, and how so many still view it as a character flaw or a moral weakness or poor parenting. That is why I want to thank you again for bringing this issue to light, as only you can do, with honesty, humor and your wonderful style of writing. You are truly an amazing person. Stay happy and hopeful, you deserve it.XXXXXXX

I came here a few days ago and was once again, blown away by your amazing, powerful writing. I had to think about it for a few days before coming back. I so appreciate your honestly, so much I can relate to, on so many levels. Depression has had a very long run in my family, spread throughout the branches of the family tree. I thought it would skip me, my life seemed to be going so well, but once it got it grip on me, it was one of the worse things I have ever experienced. The mood swings were the worse. I don't know how or why my husband stayed with me for 22 years and counting. What pains me the most now is to see my girls going through it. I do have hope, see it as an illness and treat it as such. I also treat it as naturally as I can too, but sometimes I just have to go the medical route. I thank God that there is medical treatment, much like there is for diabetes or a broken leg. One thing I hate is the stigma that is still attached to it, and how so many still view it as a character flaw or a moral weakness or poor parenting. That is why I want to thank you again for bringing this issue to light, as only you can do, with honesty, humor and your wonderful style of writing. You are truly an amazing person. Stay happy and hopeful, you deserve it.XXXXXXX

Kept checking to see if you had posted something as it had been a while. Glad that you are back, whether introspective or funny, you are still my fave blogger... Your valleys are as low as your peaks are high... and I'm not talking R Connelly workout.Keep on keeping on... in your own wee way, you make a difference to me Suze

Cheryl – I know of your daily struggles with the illness of your girls. It is an insidious invader that is thoroughly destructive. I have been so fortunate to have experienced this only twice in my life but as I said, the first time was at 36 and a direct result of death so I could understand it then. This little episode just snuck up on me but now that I know how it came about, I am armed should it ever show its ugly face again.

Re your husband staying with you, he clearly loves you very much and knows that you suffer an illness from time to time. But from your writings you are clearly a very kind a compassionate woman so why wouldn’t he stay when things get rough for a while? But I certainly know what you mean about wondering why he stays when you feel you have been so awful. I ask myself the same thing of my husband – we made good choices. I certainly wouldn’t hesitate to take medication next time, God forbids it happens again. I would have done this time had I realised earlier what it was. As it was I managed it by knocking the worst depressant – wine- on the head and adopting a far healthier diet and coming off the HRT at the same time. And as for a stigma? That’s the ignorance and intolerance of others. Bigoted people eventually find that others are not there to help them when they are ill because their intransigence and lack of empathy comes back to them. Ignore the naysayers for they know not what they do! Keep safe and well and I hope you are making good progress with the girls. You certainly deserve a break and a long term solution as soon as you can get it. X

Suze – what a lovely thing to say. I see you are not a published blogger but it would have been nice to know about more about you. Thanks for such great feedback.

The mind is the most amazing thing. OG used his mind to change from being an alcoholic, dyslexic, dyspraxic working class boy from a small village west of Glasgow into a successful, intuitive, compassionate human being that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, loved.

With the help of AA he stopped drinking 36 years ago and overcame dyslexia by concentrating on what he could do, not what he couldn't do. So, hen, as he would have said, go for it. It's all out there waiting for you. And Maggie May asked a good question. What will you call you blog now?

MOB it's so good to hear from you again and this is a very moving post. I'm so glad you've weathered the storm. I've been subject to depression in the past and have had dark times I thought would never pass - but they do, in the end, and all you can do is value the happiness and light when they return. My sister is having an awful time with menopausal symptoms and is now lined up for a hysterectomy - I hope that when all that's over she can get her life back because for nearly ten years now she hasn't felt right at all and is totally fed up with being at the mercy of her hormones and her distended, tender body. I keep telling her to come and read your blog, have a gweed lauch and a bit o' a greet and feel better for not being alone with this damned process. Once again, MOB, all power to yer elbow, hen, keep writing! x

Welcome back. Depression is an old, tiresome enemy that strips us leaves for dead, but mercilessly does not kill, only watches us, waiting to see if we will pull ourselves up again.So happy you did! I still struggle, day by day, sometimes hour by hour. But optimism surrounds me!Stick around, the world needs you.

Lorna F – aw hen, thanks for such a supportive comment. It is immensely helpful to know that others are suffering depression and the menopause together although I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I too was in line for a hysterectomy but thankfully I got this lot sorted before it came to that. I hope the op resolves your sister’s problem. She must get very very low having gone through this for ten years. Seems I got off lightly compared to that and my symptoms were awful. I couldn’t have gone through another 5 years of that. The trouble is that you can get so low with the whole situation that to even join a support group or look up helpful information becomes a vast chore. I was stuck in a complete fug.

It is indeed such a different world when you come out of depression. I feel amazing so I know what you mean. Thank God.

Ethelmae – Sorry to hear you are struggling with it, I can only hope that you recover soon. You always seem so upbeat. Amazing how we women cover things up for a short while in public then fall apart at home in private. All the best and keep on keeping on.

Welcome back MOB! Its lovely to see you writing so movingly & honestly, but somehow not depressingly, that is a true skill. Very pleased to hear that you feel you have now come out the otherside of a dark place. I'm 47 and think I may about to enter one...Wonderful to read you again xxx

Such a brilliant, positive (and well written!) post - it's great to know you've come out the other side of all that. As one who used to be a slave to her hormones and now doesn't have any (apart from some little synthetic ones) I know only too well the havoc they can play with your moods, and it's great you found a good doctor to help with that :o) Long may it continue.

Lena – a rushed hysterectomy at 29! Crikey, your system must have been in shock. 3 years for HRT to work sounds right to me. Mine never worked and after several changes where you have to wait 3 months to see any benefit is soul destroying when you have just spent the last 6 months giving the last lot a chance to work. I too was on HRT for 3 years – a waste of time. Glad it worked for you though.

Carol – well it’s a bit of a mutual admiration society! Ta Hen for such a nice comment. I too think you are the dog’s bollocks!

My friend - why did you never talk to me about this? You know I've been through this and still battle it - but I am always here for support or just listening. I might have some bon mots of my own that might shed a little light - or even just comparisons.

Please remember this. I am here and would gladly listen and try to help.

Aims – I did think about emailing you to talk about it but I was so very down that getting out of my chair even to do the smallest thing was too much of a challenge. I was engulfed with misery and physically shot to pieces. It wasn’t until I got the physical symptoms of the menopause under control that I could address the depression. It is natural to have depression with the menopause as there are many changes one goes through and I knew that all my moaning and grumbling was a side effect. I just hadn’t realised how deeply depressed I was and spent much of my time moaning about the menopausal mood swings, bleeding and exhaustion. I should have attacked both but then hindsight is an exact science. I got to the point I couldn’t even formulate any more questions. I was as near dead as physically and mentally I could get. If there is anyone I would have talked to f I could it would certainly have been you because I know you have had a constant battle and are wise to the ways of it. I just hope that you continue to win your battle as you are now. You are inspirational. X

Willowtree – yup drooling in public is not a great look! Sneezing at this age and peeing yourself in public is even worse. Thankfully I managed to avoid both!

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About Me.....ALLLL About MMMEEEEEEE!

I am a Glaswegian living down south in a beautiful quintessential English village in Northants. I’ve been away for decades but I am a Scot through and through and whilst I love living down south I hanker after my spiritual homeland. One day I plan to go home for good but not just yet – we have commitments here for the moment that prevents a full time move. In the mean time we are planning a big adventure and with luck that will come off for us soon. Since hitting the menopause I have lost some ability to concentrate – that’s a bit of a problem doing my Psychology degree but I am muddling through – although I am seriously considering doing an MA in Literature instead. I leave things in places they shouldn’t be and spend time walking to other rooms then wondering why I went there in the first place. The upside is that I get a fair bit of exercise by retracing my steps to find out why I got out of my chair in the first place. I have a husband called ‘himself’ that I often refer to in my posts – he is due a Humanitarian Award because he puts up with my mood swings